


marshmallow fluff

by missdulcerosea



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Canon What Canon, F/F, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, will add more ships i swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-01-30 17:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21432073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdulcerosea/pseuds/missdulcerosea
Summary: It’s the little things in life that bring a smile to your face.(Collection of very fluffy little pieces featuring the girls!)
Relationships: Akemi Homura/Kaname Madoka, Akemi Homura/Miki Sayaka, Akemi Homura/Sakura Kyouko, Kaname Madoka/Miki Sayaka, Miki Sayaka/Sakura Kyouko, Sakura Kyouko/Kaname Madoka, Sakura Kyouko/Tomoe Mami
Comments: 29
Kudos: 72





	1. cold

**Author's Note:**

> in the wise words of marie kondo, throw out things that do not spark you joy. puella magi madoka magica does spark joy because it is a genuinely good show, but at the same time canon does not spark joy so i’m throwing it out for probably… oh, i dunno, the entirety of this thing of oneshots because i just want my girls to be happy for once in their lives.

“Stop hogging the blankets, Kyoko.”

There the two of them sit, crammed on the lumpy green couch with vapor-beaded containers of ice cream balanced in their laps. The chilly talons of spring at nighttime can’t reach them here, because of the hum of the radiator in the living room and the thick woolen blankets keeping it at bay. Kayako’s creaking comes muffled through the TV screen, but that’s still enough for Kyoko to dive under the covers for protection - then she pops back up, still-wet-from-being-washed-in-who-knows-how-long red hair tangled and matted on her cheeks, to take her half-eaten container of ice cream and then hide under again.

“I’m getting cold, Kyoko,” Sayaka says. That’s a lie - the warmth of the radiator is enough.

“And I’m scared,” the lump beneath the blankets says. “Also, how bad are you at dealing with the cold? The radiator’s right there. If you’re that cold you don’t have to start complaining that I’m hogging the blankets and just crank up the heat.”

So she’s found the chink in the armor, it seems.

Sayaka leans over the couch to set her ice cream on the floor, gripping hold of its arm so she won’t fall off. It will melt if she doesn’t finish it off quickly, but there isn’t anything a quick hour or two in the freezer can’t do to help. The lump under the blankets shifts, thinking that Sayaka has given up on her quest for retrieving warmth. Then Sayaka dives under the covers and snuggles next to Kyoko.

“Hey!”

“If I can’t have the blankets, I can at least cuddle with you.”

The noises from the TV are distant now - the blanket is their shield, their savior against the fictional horrors of Ju-On.

“Fine,” Kyoko grunts. Briefly, she ducks out from beneath the blankets to set her ice cream down so the frozen treat doesn’t stain everything, and then squeezes Sayaka close. There is a moment where the two are drenched in the warmth of it all, savoring the sweetness that ice cream can’t bring. Kyoko smells like apple shampoo and home in Sayaka’s arms.

Then a scream comes from the TV and Kyoko squeezes Sayaka so tight she thinks her ribs might snap in half.

“...Next time we’re not watching horror movies, okay?”

“Okay.”


	2. fly me to the moon

In the stillness of comes the creaking of a swing moving back and forth beneath a sea of stars. The park is sprawled beneath the stretch of diamond-dotted black, still amongst the still-chirping crickets. Madoka sits alone with the stars and her mind, moving back and forth just a little on the swing. One, two, three, four - she can count the warm glow of fireflies in the grass, stars that have fallen here so that the Earth’s light isn’t all artificial.

There are thoughts of Sayaka in her head, and thoughts of music. Today there are three things Madoka checks off on a list she hasn’t written: Her mother took them to the planetarium at the museum where she and Sayaka could gape at the chunk of meteor and pretend they weren’t bound by the laws of gravity. They went out to get ice cream today, which didn’t melt in winter air and stayed cold and sweet and minty. Then on the way to the train, Sayaka told her that if she became an astronaut she’d want Madoka to be an astronaut with her, too - and that she’d want to talk later tonight in the park at 5:00 P.M..

_ She probably didn’t mean it like that,  _ Madoka thinks.  _ She probably just meant something else. _

So Madoka closes her eyes and begins to swing faster, drowning in the stars and the songs that fill her head. Her pigtails are coming undone and the cold rope of the swing prickles at her fisted hands, but she has her music to keep her warm.

“Fly me to the moon,” she hums. “Let me play among the stars. And let me see what spring is like…”

“...On a-Jupiter and Mars.”

Just before she gets pulled back down by gravity, she sees a face framed by choppy blue hair with the goofiest, crescent-moon grin. Sayaka shrieks and dodges Madoka before she falls to the ground, and continues to flip back and forth between laughing and singing a giggle-choked cover “Fly Me To The Moon” till Madoka slows to a stop.

“So, you wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” She grips the swing’s ropes so that Madoka stops creaking back and forth. “I kinda wanted to say something - well, it may be a little stupid, I dunno-”

“I don’t think it’ll be stupid, Sayaka. I want to hear what you have to say.”

“Well, uh, um, I - I-”

“Sayaka?”

“IthinkIreallylikeyouMadoka.”

She blinks at Sayaka with dark pink eyes. 

She doesn’t want to be alone when she plays beneath the stars. She wanted company, a hand to hold - and here the hand she was searching for is being offered to her in the here and now. They’ll get lost in space together among the drifting meteorites but they will land on a planet eventually and find each other again. Beaming, she pulls Sayaka back to her level on earth, wrapping her tightly in a hug.

“I’m glad, Sayaka. I really like you too.”

They’ll go far from here. They’ll watch the seasons come to life one after another and watch the planets orbit. There will be trips to cafes and libraries and studying maps of the constellations past their bedtimes.

“So, wanna try singing Fly Me To The Moon again on the way home? Together? Without freaking out and laughing?”

“Yeah, and then afterwards we can try singing And I Love Her together.”

So Sayaka helps her off the swing and they walk home, path lit by music and lamplight and the stars they have yet to explore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been listening to classic rock lately and it just gives me them madosaya vibes, y'know?
> 
> anyways these two are precious and i love them. take care everyone!


	3. things we said today

“Homura, how come you can’t food a food but you can drink a drink?”

Homura’s room is peat-black and dipped in shadows, save for the faint glow of the nightlight on the opposite wall. She’s finally plugged in her computer and slurped up the last of her tasteless instant ramen, because she should at least try to close her eyes. But before she could devote precious hours that could be spent sleeping to tossing and turning and thinking of the monsters that don’t dwell in her closet, Kyoko pounced onto the bed and curled up next to her.

(She’s probably gotten crumbs of whatever it is she’s eating on the bed, Homura thinks. She’ll never learn, will she? But at the same time they’re codependent that way, making the same mistakes and quietly fixing them again.)

“Homura, answer my question.”

“I don’t know. Grammar, I suppose.”

“Yeah.” Kyoko grunts and thumps down on the bed again. Homura waits for the next of the ungodly-hours-in-the-morning questions. The monster in her closet is an observer for now.

“If you were born deaf, what language would you think in?”

Homura sits up, balancing her pillow on the headboard of her bed. She rests her cheek on its cushiony surface, tucking her black hair over one shoulder so she doesn’t smack Kyoko in the face. “You’d think in whatever language your family teaches you, I guess. You don’t just learn languages by speaking, though.”

“Yeah but how’d you know how to pronounce them?”

She’d wondered what sort of monsters Kyoko hides from at night. But if this is all that dwells on her sleep-clogged mind, then maybe Homura’d like to dwell with her a little more.

“I dunno.”

Silence once more. Then-

“Homura, how much do y’ love me?”

“I can’t say for sure. You can’t measure love. But I know it’s enough. And I know that I love you.”

She feels the second occupant of the bed roll over, dragging the thick quilt and sheets with her. Then Kyoko curls her arms around her, pressing her cheek to Homura’s shoulder.

“I love you too, Homura. Good night. Tomorrow’s Saturday, so we’ll be able to wake up late in the morning.”

“Good night, Kyoko.”

So Homura finally rocks herself to sleep with questions she can’t know the answer to, and that’s enough to ward off the monster that hides in her closet till the night after. And the night after that, because they will repeat their cycle of pondering again. And the night after that, and the night after that, and the night after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i listened to the song i named the chapter after. kyohomu is slowly growing on me and consuming my soul—anyways i firmly believe kyoko turns into a ball of curious mush when she’s sleepy, hence this fic
> 
> thanks for reading! c: comments are very much appreciated


	4. i want to hold your hand

“It’s crowded and I don’t wanna get lost.”

“It’s cold, Sayaka.”

“I swear, it just happened.”

Excuses, excuses, excuses. From the synthetic-smelling aisles of the supermarket to the cramped train carts, Kyoko always ends up wrapping her fingers around Sayaka’s. The excuses come bubbling up out of her mouth and spilling out, but Sayaka just raises an eyebrow and carries on with picking pasta off the shelves or looking out the frost-glazed windows of the train. 

Now they walk home from the bakery, grease-stained and rumpled paper bag clutched in one of Sayaka’s hands. The other hand is free and covered by a thick layer of woolen mitten, and then she feels Kyoko’s gloved hand clutch hers.

“Hmm?”  
Kyoko pretends not to hear the little hum of acknowledgement, already tearing into one of her donuts. The last time she’d gnawed off some of the wrapping with it and hadn’t spat it out till a certain someone commented on the little corner of paper hanging from between her lips. Sayaka bets she probably swallowed it anyways, but Kyoko’s stomach is a bottomless chasm that’ll swallow up anything remotely digestible.

“Why’re you holding my hand?”

Kyoko’s face flushes as red as her hair. “‘Cause it’s cold. My hands are cold.”

“Kyoko, you’re wearing gloves.”

Kyoko sighs, the prominent little canine in her mouth flashing. 

“And if you’re cold, I can just lend you my scarf or help you find new gloves or something.”

“Alright, alright. Yah got me.” She stops walking and raises her free hand. Sayaka has the accusatory pistol pointed at her, so she admits defeat then and there. “Here’s the real reason I keep holding your hand.”

“Which is?”

“...You have nice hands. I like holding your hand,” Kyoko mumbles.

“And you can keep holding my hand till we get home. Then I’ll have to use it to make us hot chocolate or something - marshmallows or whipped cream?”

“Yes.”

_I’ll have to add both, just to be safe._

So with their breath condensing into translucent puffs of white in the frigid air, Sayaka and Kyoko hold their hands for warmth and make their way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kyoko being a cute lil muffin still trying to come off as tough is my JAM so here we are
> 
> thanks for reading! take care~


	5. game over

The checkerboard has been overtaken by white pieces. Kyoko sits with arms crossed on the other side of the table, mug of chamomile tea lukewarm. But Mami still plays the part of the demure queen, smiling sweetly as she pulls one of her blonde curls. Kyoko will go with her to the bakery and will fist out a few yen or so to pay for a mont blanc and not the strawberry shortcake she said she’d want if she won.

“Your turn,” Mami chirps. Surrender is looming.

But Kyoko stares up at Mami with a leering little smirk. Then the smirk blossoms into a cheshire-large grin, and jump jump jump - she’s claimed most of Mami’s white pieces and plucks them off the board to covet. When she sees Mami’s honey-colored eyes shift she leans over the table and closes her eyes, flashing back a demure little smile that she’s picked up from Mami.

“I win.”

Mami stands up, still smiling. “You certainly did - fair and square.”

“Now how about we go out and you get me a slice of strawberry shortcake? Extra whipped cream.”

“I wouldn’t forget that.” 

“Great!” Kyoko hops out of her chair - almost sending it to the ground and knocking it over - to yank her coat over her head and fumble for the zipper. Mami still waits in her seat at the table, staring back at Kyoko.

“One thing before we go, though…”

“What’d that be?” She walks back to Mami, finally zipping her jacket up with a little zrrr noise. Then Mami leans over, cupping her cheeks in her hands, for a kiss that tastes like honey-sweetened white tea.

They stay there for a little bit in the warmth of Mami’s apartment, Kyoko’s arms wrapped against her neck and shoulders. They are safe, they will go and collect their rewards, they-

“EEEWWW!”  
Nagisa grimaces when she pokes her head out of the fridge, milk sloshing around in the wax carton she holds. “If you two are gonna be gross and kiss and all that, do it away from me!”

There is a moment of silence as the two stare down, and then they burst out laughing - Kyoko first, and then Mami joining in the duet of giggles.

“Alright, alright. Sorry, Nagisa. But we’re going out to get cake, and you’re welcome to come along.”

“Can we get cheesecake?” Nagisa pleads, the sight of Mami and Kyoko kissing now forgotten.

“Well, I wanted strawberry-”

“We can split,” Mami says. “We’ll get a slice of both. Does that sound okay?”

“That sounds really wonderful.”  
And, Mami thinks to herself when they finish putting on their coats and make their way down the snow-coated sidewalk to the bakery, it really is wonderful. It really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nagisa chilling out with her two moms is really just. the Good end and i love it
> 
> thanks for reading! please take care c:


	6. simply having a wonderful christmas time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im a classic rock nerd and i found this one tweet talking about how “simply having a wonderful christmas time” was about people trying to disguise the fact that they were practicing witchcraft and laughed so hard i walked into a wall. i wrote this bc of that tweet and now i want a gf who can discuss the potential of mccartney practicing witchcraft on christmas.

The inside of the Kaname house has transformed to match the holiday spirit that infects the rest of the outside world. The pine tree in the corner of the living room is festooned with strung-up cranberries and twinkling little lights and trinkets. Christmas carols play softly from the speakers. The smell of baking cookies and chocolate perfume the air. And amidst the quiet little festivities Kyoko is propped up in a chair, gulping down hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows, and scarfing down messily-frosted cookies.

Madoka sits on the couch, head cradled on her pillow as she flicks through the dozens upon dozens of Christmas movies. “Anything you wanna watch?” she asks Kyoko. 

“Ehh, not really. I’m okay with just hanging out like this till your parents get back.”

Then the last song fades out and the next one begins. Madoka sits up, swinging her legs down from the couch and unclenching her pillow.

“Ooh, this song is one of my favorites!”  
“Which one is it?” Kyoko licks a stray glob of frosting from her hand.

“Wonderful Christmastime by Paul McCartney.” Madoka beams and reaches over to where Kyoko’s seated, snatching up a snowflake-shaped cookie.

“Do you like it just ‘cause it’s Paul McCartney - one of the Beatles? Or d’you like it because it’s a song you like.”

“Come on, Kyoko, you know I don’t have a favorite Beatle. And you’re one to talk, Miss Ringo-Is-My-Favorite-But-I-Won’t-Admit-It.”

She stuffs another cookie into her mouth, shortbread crumbs dribbling down her face. “Touche. I guess.”

“You guess.”

“There’s just one thing that kinda bugs me about this song.”

“What’s that?”

“I guess it’s ‘cause it sounds like people practicing witchcraft but then someone walks in and they gotta play it cool.”  
Madoka squints and frowns, and coming from someone like Madoka whose face never seems to be decorated without a smile, it’s something to see.

“It does and it’s weird, Madoka! ‘The moon is right, the spirits up, blahblahblah… and then all of a sudden they’re aggressively singing the chorus about having a wonderful Christmastime. Something’s up.”

She sets down her mug of hot cocoa, forgetting classic rock and witchcraft for a fraction of a moment. Then Kyoko settles down next to Madoka, letting her snuggle up to her, soft pink hair muted against the brightly-colored holiday sweater Kyoko wears. Outside the world may be cold and bitter, but inside their world is flavored with chocolate and songs on the radio. And for Kyoko, that’s enough.

Madoka’s half-asleep cuddled up next to her, but just before she dozes off completely Kyoko snaps back to her senses and says, “Still think it’s about witchcraft and you can’t convince me otherwise.”

Madoka’s loud yawn isn’t enough to mask her exasperated little sigh.


	7. golden slumbers

Nights like these—silent amidst the blaring cacophony of Christmas carols in the shops and even at home, with a gentle showering of snowflakes outside to substitute the furious blizzards—are extremely rare. So Homura makes sure to savor them and imprint them carefully upon her memory whenever they come by.

Madoka sits next to her on the couch, head pressed on her shoulder. She balances the book between her and Homura’s legs, spreading out the pages and is otherwise silent save for the moment she glances up at Homura with dark pink eyes and softly asks, “Are you finished reading? Do you want me to turn the page?” And Homura will nod and blink her deep violet eyes, so Madoka always smiles that gentle little crescent-moon smile of hers and turns the page.

Seconds of reading transform into minutes, minutes turn into hours. Tick tick tick goes the clock in the living room, and here they are still curled up on the couch in their pajamas. Pins and needles prickle at Homura’s numb arm from where Madoka fell asleep, but the next morning they will wake up to more Christmas shopping and tearing around Mitakihara for just one gift that hasn’t disappeared from the shelves yet. 

Madoka lets out a high-pitched yawn, quietly closing the book and turning up to look at Homura. “I’m getting sleepy.”

“Alright, you go on ahead and rest.”

“But I don’t wanna leeeaaave,” she mumbles. “I’m comfortable here, Homura!”

Homura’s lips draw up into a smile. She always notices the way Madoka trills and draws out her words when she’s sleepy.

“We can stay here, then. If you need any blankets, just ask—“

“It’s okay.” She’s already shifting her position on the couch, crawling across the pillows so that Homura lies with her back on the plush red row of cushions and Madoka’s face is balanced on her stomach. She reaches up a hand to twirl a stray lock of pitch-black hair between her pictures, a big dreamy smile on her face. “You comfy?”

Homura’s eyelids begin to flicker open and shut, and she reaches down to clasp Madoka’s hand. “Yeah. I’m comfy. Good night, Madoka. I love you.”

She falls asleep before she can reach up and press a goodnight kiss that tastes like fresh gingerbread to Madoka’s lips or forehead, but tomorrow they’ll get to exchange all their good morning kisses and happy holiday kisses and I-love-you-more-than-any-gift-will-know kisses in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im gonna have nightmares bc of scp-701 so i wrote fluffy madohomu to calm down.
> 
> thanks for reading! take care and dont go onto the scp wiki at night <3


	8. good morning my love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> notice: for the purpose of this ficlet, it takes place in my "what if the megucas grew up to be married and happy" au.

When Sayaka opens her eyes, the first thing she notices is the pair of arms wrapped around her. Making sure that the covers don’t rustle too loudly, she shifts her position to face Madoka lying on her side: She’s tranquil in sleep, long rose-pink hair trailing over the pillow and eyelids shut. From moment to moment she will let out the occasional sleepy murmur—she’s having a good dream, Sayaka hopes, but it’s Madoka and she deserves nothing but good dreams and better realities—but for the most part Madoka remains silent save for her breathing.

They are still in the early morning hours, sunlit tinging the room in pale gold through the sheer curtains. And it’s the stillness that makes Sayaka wish she could freeze this moment in time and never go back, never have to wake up to the incessant beeping of an alarm clock and go to work. And even then the hours before work are filled with crumb-lined smiles over syrup-drenched pancakes, kisses flavored with mint toothpastes, smudging pink lipstick stains on Sayaka’s cheek in a goodbye-before-work-see-you-for-dinner kiss. Though she can and does repeat the routine they have, the stillness of their mornings still shine diamond-like for Sayaka.

She unfreezes the moment and bends down to press a soft kiss to Madoka’s forehead, and watches her wife’s eyes flutter open—her mouth hangs open a little before curving up into a smile.

“Good morning, dear.”

“Good morning, my princess.” Laughing softly, Sayaka presses her forehead down to meet Madoka’s—she’s tried it where Madoka’s the one leaning down over her, except Sayaka’s the one who keeps her blue hair short in a pixie cut half because it’s something she likes better than the choppy cut she had in middle school and partly because long strands of hair won’t smack her in the face. “Today’s Thursday.”

“—And Thursday means donuts!” Madoka finishes.

When they kiss it tastes sweet, sweeter than the most sugar-packed donut they could pick out at the store.

Stillness, movement, stillness, movement—regardless of whether they are in the stillness or not, Sayaka has her wife. And she wouldn’t have the world be any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a sucker for domestic, fix-fic future madosaya if you couldnt tell. also for bespectacled adult madoka (tho u dont see her in this fic lel) and pixie-cut sayaka.
> 
> thank you very much for reading! have a nice thursday c:


	9. cuddly

It starts out small.

It begins in the snapshots of moments when none in the world around them would care to notice: In the shadow-shrouded quiet of a movie theater or pressed onto the couch with the others, Homura sometimes curls an arm around Sayaka. There’s no reason for it, but Sayaka never pushes her away or scooches to the other side of the couch. That’s the beginning of their truce.

Then Sayaka begins to return the favors. When they’re seated in front of the TV, sugary cereal soggy in sour milk, that’s when Sayaka reaches out and twines a finger through a strand of silky black hair. Homura feels it and lets her, sometimes she’ll go as far as to clumsily braid it and then let it unravel on her back. She sits at an angle where Sayaka can comb her fingers through her hair—it comes at the cost of the occasional glance from others, but it’s more than a truce now.

They spend long nights together and long mornings, too. Mami is the one who finds Homura sprawled against Sayaka on the couch, Sayaka playing with her hair as she rests her head on her stomach. They both know she is here but close their eyes to her secret little smile and let her drape a blanket over them so they can rest together till the cracks of sunlight through the blinds become insescapable. Many naps are taken this way.

They are no longer secret and it’s more than a truce. But it’s what they want, and the world beyond continues to tilt. But they are right here and it’s where they’ll stay: Squished up in the plush seat of an armchair, arms cradling one another as they sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well darn homusaya is growing on me.


	10. hair habits

It is not often that Mami Tomoe lets her hair down. Most of the time she keeps it styled in sculpted ringlets that Kyoko’s tried pulling at before to get her attention. But at nighttimes when she sits wrapped up in a fluffy pink bathrobe making ripples in her tea so that isn’t piping hot when she drinks it, she lets her hair cascade down her back in waves.

Kyoko’s the one holding the book this time. Mami rests her head on her shoulder, quietly piping up when Kyoko has to turn the page. They’re quiet this time of night, because the silence is better than whatever words they might have between them. Sometimes Mami will tilt her head up to leave a kiss on Kyoko’s cheek, making a grin spread wide on her face till Mami asks her to turn the page. She doesn’t need both hands to hold a book, Kyoko decides, and reaches up one hand to twirl Mami’s hair in her fingers.

“You have nice hair,” Kyoko murmurs. And then—why didn’t she ask—she adds, “Do you want me to stop playing with your hair?”

“No, I like it when you play with my hair.”

“Okay.” Kyoko smiles again and waits for Mami to finish reading. “Just so you know, your hair looks really pretty when you let it loose. But it also looks just as pretty when you have it done up in that curly style, too.”

“You think? I used to think my hair looked boring when it was loose, so I kept styling it in ringlets.”

“Of course I do. You’re Mami—you’re pretty no matter how you wear your hair.”

She wraps her arms around one of Kyoko’s arms, blonde hair tickling Kyoko’s cheek. Maybe they can forget about their book for a millisecond, and sit here in the quiet of Mami’s house. Because they have each other, and there’s things the other doesn’t notice that they’re there to remind each other of, they’re there to keep each other close and hold each other tight.

So that is what they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kyomami's really lovely ;v; i need to write more of these two, their dynamic in the different story broke my heart. but you know what? like the other girls, they deserve their happy ending, too <3
> 
> thanks for reading! take care~


End file.
